


Quarter cup of sugar

by Greyneurosis (Spylace)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Chuck Lives, Gen, M/M, Passive-aggressively baking his way, and nobody's dead, into a man's heart, what a wonderful world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spylace/pseuds/Greyneurosis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bakery!Au Chuck falls in love with the stupid arsehole who buys sample cupcakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quarter cup of sugar

**Author's Note:**

> First PR fic of the year?
> 
> Inspired by the many filled, unfilled, semi-filled prompts on Pacific Rim Kink Meme :D

“Dad” Chuck hissed when he heard Tendo’s— _the usual Becket boy?_ from the front.

His dad groaned at the sound. He must have heard it too because his shoulders bunched and his posture became defensive like he was asking questions the old man really didn’t want to answer.  Chuck pushed himself from the counter with one good foot, wincing at the pain. Rubbing his dough-sticky hands fastidiously against his aprons, he demanded “Dad, dad, dad, _daaaad_.”

Hercules Hansen did not miss a beat. With a deft hand, he finished off an orange swirl on top of one cupcake before moving onto another. A tired routine he could have done in his sleep. But unable to raise himself above the crotch level, Chuck jabbed an elbow into his old man’s thigh and said “He’s here. Again.”

“Leave him be, son.” Herc advised, squirting too much green frosting on top of red—a Christmas tree maybe? He gave Chuck the hairy eyeball as though he was in the wrong. “A man’s got a right to enjoy his coffee in peace.”

“He’s at a bakery.” Chuck said aghast, outraged on his father’s behalf. “There’s a Starbucks across the street.”

“The Starbucks across the street doesn’t have Tendo.” His dad pointed out.

Chuck conceded the point. He was half-convinced that Elvis practiced the Dark Arts on the espresso machine.

“But what if he’s here to spy on us?”

“If he is, maybe he can help me figure out what to make of this damned recipe.”Herc snorted, waving around a piece of paper in exasperation. Chuck snatched it from the air and cradled it close. “What’s wrong with you?!” He yelped. Slowly straightening out the crumpled edges as he might sooth a wounded animal, he continued “Do you know how long I’ve worked on this?”

“Not long enough if you think I’m putting ‘em on shelves.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Chuck asked, genuinely bewildered.

His old man shook his head. “It’s peanut butter and jelly.” Herc deadpanned. “On _cupcakes_.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” He scoffed.

Herc shot him a fond, irritated look.

A car accident had left him drugged to the gills and both legs in casts. Assured that he might break into teeny-tiny pieces if the sun so much as shone down on him the wrong way, his old man had strong-armed into convalescing at the little bakery run by himself and a mung bean who made the best coffee on their side of the pond.

It was a nice place, a cozy place.

Chuck lasted exactly three days against the heat of the ovens and the smell of bread and cookies.

One day, out of sheer boredom, he experimented with the scraps of dough. The chocolate-chip scone was an instant hit with the crowd.

Around that time, Becket began to hang around more and more often. He didn’t know Becket. Becket didn’t know him from Adam. But he felt his eyes on him and it equaled instant animosity. Tendo told him he needed to lighten up. He told Tendo to eat cock.

“Isn’t this shit supposed to make you relax?” The barista exclaimed, squinting at the label on his painkillers.

Chuck scowled.

“This is very good.” A woman told him, nibbling daintily at a cupcake.

He brightened immediately.

Despite Tendo’s staggering disbelief, the medication did kick in near lunch time and he had to go lie down. Batting away his dad’s hand, Chuck staggered into his mattress and closed his eyes. It didn’t take long for sleep to claim him.

When he woke up close to four, the bakery was empty and his cupcakes were gone.

“Oi” He called out, “Where are my cupcakes?”

“Hm?” His dad shrugged. Tendo was off for the day. “That Becket bloke bought ‘em all.”

“What?!”

“You had them out.” Herc pointed out reasonably.  

Chuck made a series of incomprehensible noise.

“So the twat waits until I leave to make his move?”

“Jesus. Chuck, it’s not like he robbed a bank.”

“They weren’t for sale!”

Herc rolled his eyes so hard they nearly went into orbit.

Chuck sulked, baked, then sulked some more.

The next time Becket-the-cupcake-thief came around, he couldn’t stop himself. “You!”

Becket blinked and somewhere behind him, his dad groaned, beseeching higher powers for mercy.

“You!” Chuck said again for the lack of a better word. “You ate my cupcakes.”

The other man grinned. “Technically they were mine. Money exchanged hands, that’s how transactions work.”

Chuck fumed while Becket inspected the latest batch. He let out a pornographic moan as he sank his teeth into a churros-inspired cupcake with a cream cheese frosting. “This is awesome.” Becket said, slapping down a ten for the entire lot. Chuck had no idea why he felt so vindicated.

A pan of lemon brownies earned him a laugh while carrot cake cookies earned him a quiet smile. It didn’t take him long to figure out Becket’s likes and lesser passions. He was never vocal about Chuck’s failures but even he realized that blueberry cheese rolls were a miss when the subtler flavors of pumpkin bread claimed victory.

It got to be that as his bones knitted, Chuck baked exclusively for Becket.

His old man gloated when he finally figured it out.

“So what are you going to do now ace?” Herc asked, wheeling him home from the latest round of physical therapy. It was weird calling the bakery that inside his head. But it also felt right.

“You’re a terrible father.” Chuck shot back.

It had to be perfect—Chuck decided. Something Becket-the-cupcake-thief-with-no-given-name _couldn’t_ find anywhere else.

Tendo laughed himself sick when he found him skulking around in the morning before opening hours. Chuck threatened to fire him forever.

When the moment of truth arrived, he had nothing to say. Tendo and his old man collectively held their breath as Becket looked down at the plate, a single cinnamon roll in the middle.

“It’s for you.” Chuck said brusquely. “Eat it or else.”

“Are you guys doing something special today?” Becket asked tentatively.

“No”

“Anniversary?”

“No”

“A birthday?”

Chuck exploded.

“I made it for you alright?!”

Becket looked down at his plate then up, crinkling his eyes.

“It’s good.” The blond beamed. “It’s always good.”

“You don’t know that yet.” Chuck groaned, fearing that he’d messed everything up. He was usually a lot smoother than this.

“I do.” Becket quietly promised. “It’s why I bought the cupcakes.”


End file.
